Memorable: The 99th Hunger Games
by Rainbow Zebras
Summary: Everyone's excited about the 100th Hunger Games, yet with this being his first year as Head Gamemaker, Syrio Dame will stop at nothing to make sure his Games are never forgotten, by making them the bloodiest, most horrifying Games any citizen has ever witnessed. SYOT open.
1. Memorable

**A/N Hello, lovelies! As a former fanfiction user that has migrated to Tumblr, I haven't used this site since like 2012. However, I found myself having lots of muse so I decided to start a SYOT because well, why not? THE TRIBUTE FORM AND LIST IS IN MY PROFILE, ALONG WITH INFORMATION AND RULES.**

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Head Gamemaker Syrio Dame's POV

The tip of my pencil lightly taps against the large white sheet of paper that rests on my desk, brightly lit by an overhead light, giving it a pale golden glow. Golden, the same color as the linear tattoos that pattern both of my arms. Besides this, not many other physical alterations have been made to my body. The golden lines down my arms, my nose fixed, and my hair dyed bright red with highlights of various shades of orange, and styled formally. After all, despite being in my mid-thirties, I am Head Gamemaker, and we're supposed to dress, speak and act with etiquette at all times, often holding ourselves higher than others.

The 99th Annual Hunger Games are the fifth Games that I've found myself being Gamemaker of, yet the first time that I've had to lead the team. The last three Games, despite being thrilling—I have been thoroughly congratulated for my performance—have been…overlooked, so to say. Everyone's attention is on what will happen next year, the year of the 100th Games. I'm absolutely glad that I get a year of practice before dealing with such a major event, to be honest, but I don't want to settle with these Games being the average Hunger Games. No, with this being my first year on the job, these Games will not be overlooked. They will be memorable.

That's when I begin sketching. My lines aren't delicate; they lack an artist's technique. They are rough and precise. The esthetics aren't what matters, what matters are the notes and details. The arena isn't what gets most attention; it is merely a setting where the real fun takes place.

I trace arrows and circle specific locations in this year's arena, jotting down notes in a messy scrawl as a pleased smirk lifts one corner of my lips.

Oh, yes. These Games will be memorable indeed.


	2. Overlooked

A/N Hello, this is Abby with a second chapter for you all. I've already recieved several tributes and reserves, but for anyone new to this SYOT, I still have plenty of spots open, just take a look at my profile. Also, I will be working on a surprise for all of you, so be sure to regularly check my profile! On this chapter we meet the not so lovely president. Enjoy!

**President Obsidietta Delacroix's POV**

A sheet of paper full of information that is mostly meaningless to me rests on the desk. This information is about the upcoming Hunger Games, and comes from the new Head Gamemaker, Syrio Dame. I have been told that he's been spent every waking hour working on the arena, trying to make his first Games ones that will be remembered throughout history.

Fool.

He should know better, really. The Hunger Games are about to commemorate their one hundredth anniversary, every Capitolite and Hunger Games supporter is thrilled about it. Of course, I don't expect these Games to be dull, but I already have been receiving extremely detailed reports on each citizen in Reaping age. In order to decide the twist of the fourth Quarter Quell, I must know how much rebellious behavior is present in the Districts. If it's in the least bit alarming, I will have to tell the Gamemakers to make it something that will wipe out a large amount of the population, therefore frightening the few remaining worthless District rats. I could care less about them starving to death. As president, I have more important things to worry about than filthy peasants.

My fingernails, painted black just like my jaw-length, completely straight hair, gently tap the cool surface of my desk, next to the sheet of paper. Besides a few sentences here and there, nothing seems relevant enough for my time. My time is a precious thing, that I use carefully. I plan everything in days, if not weeks, of anticipation. A visit to this social event, a meeting with those Gamemakers. A brief look at reports stating everything about the Districts. Nothing escapes Obsidietta Delacroix's eyes.

I remember that being a common line used back when I was running for this charge. It was assumed that it meant that as president, I would pay attention to Panem's needs and tend to them, when really it means that no secrets can be kept from me. I will find out about someone thinking of the idea of an uprising before the thought even enters their head, and as soon as it does, make sure that said person is immediately executed.

The memory of my fellow candidate to presidency also enters my mind. Sayer. He was truly a good competitor, charming, fair. Such a shame that I wasn't. While he was the center of attention, I always was in the background. Yet everyone was too ignorant to even suspect me when he was found dead, his drink poisoned. Well, after all, not many sisters poison their own brothers when they seem to be a threat.

"Miss Delacroix, Syrio Dame is here. He claims he wants to know your opinion on the papers he sent you about the upcoming Hunger Games." The sound of my secretary's voice jolts me out of my own mind, sounding clearly through a small device in front of me. At that point, my eyes flicker back to the sheet of paper, which I crumple up until it resembles a small ball and toss into the trash can.

"Tell him that I will talk to him on Tuesday, from ten in the morning to eleven thirty, and still expect daily papers." My voice, like my eyes and personality, is cold.

Why waste time on something that will so quickly be overlooked?


End file.
